Department Affairs
by The Mercenaries
Summary: A series of shorts set Pre-Mansion. Follows S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team members Brett Marshal and Mary Shepherd from their first day on the job up to the Mansion Incident. NonCronological timeline, OC, violence, language, sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

Department Affairs

Chapter One

March 1996

He fidgets, nervous as he sits in his nicest black dress shirt and slacks. He's never had a big interview like this before. Little things, sure; like convenience stores and Wal-Mart. But this is a huge opportunity for him. 'Relax, you went through five years in the military. You can do this; you qualify. You just need to get through this.' He told himself, reassuring the nagging other voices in his head that wondered 'what if'?

Brett Marshal shifts nervously in the uncomfortable plastic seat. His fingers are shaking ever so slightly as he observes his competition.

Sitting next to him is a young woman. Her short burgundy hair covers her right eye as she sits; legs relaxed and head leaning against the wall, seemingly asleep with a white headphone plugged into her right ear. Her lip and ears are pierced and he can see bright ink peeking out from under the left sleeve of her black blouse. Her entire outfit, dress slacks, belt and heeled boots are black. She's tall, like him; with light skin and curvy features. He imagined she could be an intimidating woman if approached wrong.

There's a man across from him; his chair against the other wall. His brown haired head is tilted back in a feigned bored manner; but his sharp dark eyes never leave the door to the interview room. He's dressed casually, in jeans and a brown shirt and his arms sit crossed over his chest. He's lean but muscular. 'Shorter than me. Good.'

Next to the man across from him is another young woman. She's dressed professionally in a neat, pressed navy blue blazer and pencil skirt with low black heels. She's wearing a white blouse under the blazer, the buttons done up just enough to be proper, yet tantalizing. She's thin and somehow elegant in shape. Her blue eyes are bright and alert. They seem an unearthly shade of blue, now that he thinks of it. She tucks a short, brown strand of hair behind her ear and catches him looking.

He almost bites his lip, but catches himself and simply smiles at the pretty brunette. She smiles back, genuine, friendly. "Are you nervous?" She asks him, taking him by surprise. He opens his mouth, about to lie and say 'no'. "A little bit. You?" He asks, attempting at conversation. Anything's better than the silence. "Just a little. I try not to freak myself out." She replies, still smiling.

They've caught the attention of the other two. The other man scoffs; grinning cockily. "I'm not; I got this down." He replies, leaning forward and holding out his arm. "Chris Redfield." He introduces himself. Brett shakes his hand. "Brett Marshal. Good to meet ya." He replies pleasantly. Chris's arrogance bothers him a little but he says nothing. The young woman next to Chris offers Brett her hand first, and then Chris. "I'm Jill Valentine."

The three look to the remaining one, no longer appearing asleep. She smirks, not smiles; but offers her hand to Brett. "Mary Shepherd." She informs, just her name; no more. They each shake her hand. She looks around to all of them. "Nice group; maybe we'll get to work together."

Just then, the door to the interview room opens and a nervous looking man shuffles out; head down and shaking slightly; his fists balled in his pockets as he walks away as fast as he can without drawing attention to himself. Another man steps just over the threshold and looks at a clipboard. He's dressed in a blue dress shirt, black BDU's and a black tactical vest. His blonde hair is perfectly slicked back from his sharply angled face and he's wearing black mirrored sunglasses. "Brett Marshal?" He drawls, sounding uninterested.

Brett gets to his feet, his nerves shooting through the roof from seeing the last victim and who was interviewing him. "That's me, sir." The blonde turns his head as Brett speaks. "Let's go." He directs; standing to the side and gesturing into the room.

Brett takes a deep breath and walks in; straightening his posture and readying his answers.

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"Five years active duty with the Illinois National Guard. No college, no record. What made you enter the Guard, Mr. Marshal?" The blonde asks; who Brett finds out is Albert Wesker; the man who, if he passes this interview, would be his Captain. Brett clears his throat, more out of nerves and less out of necessity. "My father is the Captain of the Street Crimes unit in Chicago. I always wanted to be an officer; but I couldn't afford the college classes they required of me there. So I joined the Guard." Brett reiterated patiently; glad that his voice didn't shake at all.

Wesker jots something down on the clipboard and Brett's heart sinks. "Mmm-hmm. And what attracted you to the position of point man?" He asks, his tone still an unsettling mix of icy and uninterested. "Well sir, I'm eager to put my skills to use. The Guard taught me well and it would be a shame to waste that knowledge." He replies; feeling more confident as time passes.

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April 1996

Mary almost fell out of her bed; her cell ringing loudly serving as her alarm and the cause of her shock. Through bleary eyes; she struggled to read the id: Captain Wesker calling. She gave an alarmed gasp, thinking she was late for her first day. Fumbling to her feet with the phone and half sprinting/half tripping over the mess in her bedroom, she answered. "Shepherd."

"Get to the precinct; there's a hostage situation. Don't drag your feet." Wesker's short, curt order was issued and he hung up before she could reply. She felt herself become more awake as she made it to her closet; removing her uniform pants and shirt, her vest and boots.

As fast as she could, she dressed, laced her boots and hastily ran a brush through her hair before snatching her wallet, gun and a muffin from the fridge.

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The same call was issued to Brett. Immediately, he shot up, answered and rose to his feet. "Get to the precinct; hostage situation in progress." It was his new captain. Brett nodded tersely to himself before reaching his wardrobe, taking his vest and pulling it on over the shirt he slept in. He also pulled on his BDU's and already-laced boots. They were loose but he'd tighten them later. He snatches up his uniform shirt, checks his vest for his id and keys and swiftly leaves his apartment.

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"Hey, Valentine!" Mary calls, jogging briskly into the large precinct building; still wiping sleep from her eyes. Jill turns and meets her new co-worker's disorientated gaze. "Did you get that hostage call?" She asks, breathless. They're both fast walking to the S.T.A.R.S office. "Yep. Exciting first day, huh?" Jill questions, smiling as they both barge into the office; Wesker already debriefing the team.

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Mary follows behind Brett on the left side of the bank. They're waiting by the rear entrance. The team is wearing protective gear; getting ready to storm in when signaled to. Wesker's negotiating; his voice clear and loud over the megaphone as he crouches behind one of the cruisers. There's two suspects, both armed with machine guns (she can't remember what kind) and about fifteen hostages.

Barry, Alpha Team's weapons specialist; is behind her. He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezes. Somehow; the older man's presence helps put the rookie at ease.

She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. 'I can do this. I spent years preparing for this.'

When Wesker comes in over their radios, telling them to strike; they do.

As one suspect raises his gun to a sobbing mother's head; Mary squeezes the trigger. It's the first time she's ever shot someone.

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November 1996

"Hello Miss November." Chris greets as he changes the month on the calendar next to his desk. Jill rolls her eyes and refocuses on filing her nails. It's a slow day.

"Sometimes I think you're overcompensating with that calendar, the websites and all that bragging about your conquests." Mary states to Chris as she plays Snake on her phone out of boredom. Brett's desk in in front of hers, facing her. He chuckles at her and shakes his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chris demands, outraged. Mary smirks and pulls herself away from her game. "What did ya think it meant, Redfield? Sometimes I wonder if you're gay or not. What with all that carrying on you do." She clarifies; causing Brett, Brad and Jill to snicker.

"I am not! Look at me, I'm as manly as they get!" He exclaims; flexing his arms and posing. Jill giggles. From his desk, Mary swears Wesker just gave an amused chuckle. "I dunno man, she's got a point. How many woman have you claimed to bring home just this week?" Brett asks, giving Mary a supportive smile.

"Not to mention, you make sure you look very… pretty. How long do you spend in front of the mirror before we hit the bar?" Brad asks, joining in on the fun. "Can it, Chickenheart!" Chris rounds on him. They're just playing with Redfield; but it never gets old.

"Come on now, guys. His looks are all he's got going for him; of course he's gonna focus on em." Barry defends Chris, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped on his desk. "Thank you – Hey!" Chris catches on, glaring at his friend. The office roars with laughter.

"Alright, alright; that's enough. Who wants lunch? I'm buying." Brett calls everyone's attention away from tormenting Chris; starting to feel bad for the poor man. Chris relaxed his posture and gave a grin to his unlikely savior. "Free food; I'm in!" Brett rose from his seat and looked around expectantly. A loud chorus of various affirmatives rang through the office. Everyone, aside from Wesker (of course) and Brad (who still had a mass of paperwork to do), stands and follows as Brett leads the way out.

Mary lingers as everyone happily bounds out to take their lunch break. She tries to get close to Wesker's desk without seeming to obvious. "Not coming with, Captain?" She asks, abruptly deciding 'fuck it' and approaching directly, bracing an arm on his desk.

He looks up; she sees her reflection in his shades.

"I think not, Ms. Shepherd. I still have reports that need to be filed." He answers, in his usual flat drawl. She suppresses a frown. "Well…how bout I bring you back something?" She tries again, not to be daunted by his behavior. She swears she sees the corners of his lips twitch.

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_Author's Note:_

_Still trying to find ways around the formatting BS with the page breaks/line thingies! But I can breathe a sigh of relief that the story is now on the proper account. Chapter two is written, just need to converse about it a little more and it should be posted later tonight or tomorrow. Hope you like!_

_MistressMaryD and Agent Krivins_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"_When you're down, it's a long way up; when you're up, it's a long way down. It's all the same thing. No new tale to tell." Blaqk Audio – No New Tale To Tell_

_December 1996 _

She chuckles softly to herself and current situation. She's leaning against her car, trapped between the vehicle and her Captain.

A rock and a hard place.

"Did it ever occur to you that our co-workers could stumble upon us at any time?" She asks, leaning back on her hands against the hood of the red Mustang. She's not worried and doesn't even bother to fake it. He tilts his head, and that shadow of a smirk is just barely pulling at the corners of his lips.

Lips that had been on hers just moments before.

"Did it ever occur to you that I don't care?" He counters, taking a step back and allowing her more space to straighten up.

They're silent when they hear the door to Jay's Bar open and raucous laughter following. Wesker watches her dark eyes glitter in the low light of the parking lot as she studies the figures; making sure they're not the people she doesn't want to catch them.

Satisfied the two men aren't her co-workers; she directs her attention back to the blonde. "You know if we do what I'm thinking we'll do; it's a huge breach of ethics?" She lays out, somewhat of a question. Wesker smiles at this. "And who will tell on us?" He poses the question, knowing neither of them would.

He leans closer, just a little bit. She'll learn he's quite the tease.

Mary leans up in turn; pressing the length of her body against him; a sly smile curling her lips. "Your place or mine?" That short whisper carries so much promise. "Mine." He answers; suddenly, if only for a moment, it seems the coldness is gone from his voice.

Or maybe it's just her imagination.

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Brett feels like he's won the lottery. He's feeling good, holiday season is upon the city, he's doing well with his job, he's found good friends in his teammates and he's dancing with a beautiful woman. 'Why did I avoid bars for so long?' He wonders, before quickly refocusing on Jill as she twists and writhes to the heavy bass beat in front of him.

They don't care that their team (what's left of them at this hour) can see them. Brett doesn't care that Chris is drunkenly and dejectedly glaring in his direction. Jill doesn't care that their Captain could catch them when he comes back. (Where did he go again?)

Hands become braver; bodies get closer, the music grows louder. They forget there's a crowd of people dancing around them.

When their lips meet, they can't even hear the music.

It's Brett who breaks the kiss; feeling as though he's overstepped some invisible line.

It's Jill who pulls him back; both hands fisted in his partially unbuttoned uniform shirt.

When they part again; Jill's keen eyes look behind them. Barry and Joseph aren't paying attention and Chris looks half-asleep, his upper body laying on the bar. Jill leans up on her toes, her lips just brushing Brett's ear. "Let's get out of here."

Brett's eyes widen in momentary surprise; at her forwardness and at the words that pass from his lips next. "Your place or mine?"

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_June 1996_

He watches his opponent. Well, she's not really his opponent. He's teaching her how to fight. Sort of.

She's a fast learner.

Brett narrowly dodges a right hook, and when he steps back; she throws out a leg and he stumbles. Not falling, of course; but close enough.

The rebellious little sister of the team smirks and holds out her hands in a 'So, how was that?' motion. He manages a soft chuckle. Her behavior reminds him of her background. She wants to be praised for doing well. 'Who doesn't?' He thinks to himself.

"That was good. I didn't expect the leg." He replies, smiling at his friend's own growing smile.

"Your form is sloppy." Another voice joins in, echoing ominously in the gym. Their heads turn and they're met with blonde hair and black shades. Brett looks to his partner; sees her brows knit together as she tries to contain her disappointment. She opens her mouth, but immediately bites her lip and remains silent, looking down at her feet.

"Captain, she's learning fast. I think she's improving with every fight." Brett defends in a polite manner, knowing all too well how it felt to be in her position. Mary gives him a small smile; tilting her head just enough for him to see. 'Thank you' she mouths.

"Don't baby her." Wesker's voice cuts through the air like a scythe. He's standing before them now; Brett imagines his presence is like a weight pushing down on both of them.

The weight of his expectations.

"I hired you because of your skill. You are what I was looking for." He says to Brett, nothing flattering about his tone. It just was. Brett nods, unsure what else to do or say in the face of that comment. He rounds on Mary next and Brett can almost feel her resolve leaving her as her shoulders flinch.

Nevertheless, she raises her head and meets Wesker's gaze square on. Her jaw is clenched hard enough that Brett can see the chords in her neck straining. But she doesn't crumble under his critical gaze; doesn't dare cry or snap in front of him.

"And I hired you because you showed promise. You will not make me look like a fool by proving my decision was a bad one." Nothing but cold.

Sometimes, Brett thought that there was nothing inside his Captain. Nothing warm or friendly or human. In the short time he'd known Wesker; the man's emptiness, his lack of emotion greatly unsettled him.

Wesker tilts his head. "Do you understand?" He asks, daring her to speak. Brett imagines if her voice cracks or shakes Wesker will never let her forget it.

"Yes sir."

Brett allows himself a small smile; her voice is steady and strong.

And it's then he realizes what has just happened. Wesker wasn't picking at her; wasn't trying to be, for lack of a better word, mean. He's testing her. Brett thinks she's passed.

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Author's Note:

And here's chapter two! Less going on and shorter. We don't know if it's going to stay like this or not; this story's just like our big experimental project. Woot! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"_I got a pocketful of sunshine, I got a love and I know that it's all mine." Natasha Bedingfield – "Pocketful of Sunshine" _

_March 1997_

They're stuck in the office. It's late and night has long since fallen. Wesker's gone for a coffee break and Mary and Brett are alone.

Buried under mountains of paperwork. Goddamn drunk drivers.

"I'm starting to forget why I wanted to be a cop again." Brett states, somewhat playfully. Mary looks up at him and smiles. "Tell me about it. I thought term papers were bad." Brett laughs and they lapse back into silence; the only sounds in the room are their pens scratching on the reports.

Mary catches Brett glancing at the door from the corner of her eye and briefly wonders what he's looking for.

He looks back to her and gives a somewhat uneasy smile. She smirks and tilts her head, placing her pen down. "Yes?" She asks, good-naturedly.

He hesitates and his eyes shift to the door again before going back to her. "Are you…" He trails off, apprehensive. She arches a brow at his strange behavior. "Am I… what?" She prods; wondering what's got her friend so uneasy.

"Well…is, uh, anything going on between you and the Captain?" He forces it out all at once; almost sounding rushed. _'Shit! How does he know?' _Mary thinks frantically; though her calm mask remains.

She gives him an indulgent smile and her brow creases as she holds back a fake laugh. "Why would you think that?" Brett's smile grows just a little at her non-answer. She doesn't want him to know he's right.

"Oh, I was just wondering since I've been noticing you've been staying behind when we go to lunch and staying later at night. I just assumed…" He trails off, giving her the chance to confirm or deny it.

Mary's brows rise in surprise that he's actually noticed. She didn't think anyone would. _'Lie bitch! You need this job; nobody can know about this!'_ She listens to her inner-voice. "Oh you know me, wanting to finish this shit paperwork. It never ends; guess I'm a slow writer." She dismisses him; taking just a few seconds too long.

Brett's smile is now a disbelieving one and Mary's heart sinks. _'That's it, you're screwed. Pack your shit now.'_

"Mary, come on. This is me; you can trust me." He reminds; knowing if she's faced with that, she'll cave. _'She must be wanting to tell_ someone_ to get it off her chest.'_ Mary eyes him warily for a few seconds…and takes a leap of faith.

"You won't tell anyone?" She questions, needing to hear it. She doesn't think he will; but wants to hear it regardless. Brett leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course not. Your secret's safe with me." He's sincere, as always.

She exhales heavily; it feels as though a weight is being lifted as she opens her mouth to speak. "I am." She nods the affirmative. "How did this happen? Cap'n doesn't seem like the…ah, romantic type." Brett could've laughed as Mary averts her eyes and smiles. That look tells him he was wrong.

"Well, uh; he kinda is. But yeah…" She trails off, embarrassed that she corrected him. Brett draws back in shock. '_Really?_' He thinks to himself, in disbelief. _'How could that statue of a man be romantic?_' He recovers quickly though.

"I don't even…How?" He asks, sounding completely blown away but curious at the same time. Mary feels the heat rise in her face and ears and covers her eyes with her hand. "Do you want me to give you a play-by-play of our first night together?" She demands, knowing that will deter him.

"Aw, hell no!" Brett exclaims, covering his face with his report. Mary giggles at his reaction, feeling better knowing he won't ask again. Brett slowly removes the folder from his face, as if peeking to see if it's safe.

"That answers my_ last_ question. So…how long has this been going on?" He prods, wanting to know more. About the safe questions; of course.

Mary picks up her pen and starts writing again; she's almost done anyway. "Since just before Christmas." She replies, wondering how he'll react to this new information. A shadow crosses his face; as if he's thinking about something; recalling that night perhaps.

"Really? That long huh? So how long did it take before you jumped into bed with him?" Brett inquires, grinning in amusement. Mary's head shoots up and her jaw drops, giving him that classic 'blow-up-doll' face. He laughs loudly and leans back farther in his chair. "You're terrible!" She exclaims; throwing a pencil at him.

"What? I already know you slept with him! Come on, just tell me!" He reasons, chuckling as he tosses the pencil back on her desk. She's gone pink again and snickering softly. She shakes her head. "We kinda abandoned you guys at Jay's. Remember, when we went out after that stakeout? That was the first time the, ah, _offer _came up. And I jumped on it, so to speak." She answers, still blushing.

"Oh, you _jumped on it_ huh?" He reiterates, suggestively; wiggling his brows. Mary almost falls out of her chair laughing. "Well,_ he_ jumped on it really." She shoots back; and Brett's expression morphs into one of surprise again. _'Wesker? A man of passion? Blasphemy!'_ He thinks, knowing he'll never look at his Captain the same again.

Almost as if he knew they were talking about him; Wesker comes back into the room, turning his attention to the two giggling officers. "What's so funny?" He asks the same cold voice. And Brett wonders how anything about that is sexy.

"Nothing Captain." Brett replies, a small grin still pulling at his lips. "Nothing at all." Mary shakes her head as she turns back to her work and they leave the blonde in the dark.

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_December 1996_

Brett wakes up slowly; stretching and rolling over. Only to find his lover isn't there. He sits up, looking down at the side of the bed she slept on. '_Damn, I should've said her place.'_ He thinks to himself; though it doesn't dampen his mood. He still can't believe how well, amazing last night was.

As he's about to get up and get ready for work; he catches sight of a note sitting under a cup of coffee on his nightstand. He smiles, taking a sip of the coffee; picking up the note and beginning to read.

"_Hey there handsome. You sure know how to show a girl a good time! Really, last night was wonderful. I have an early shift today so I don't mean for you to be waking up alone. I'll make up for it next time. Promise. Maybe we can go out tonight? See you at work._

_J.V."_

Brett grins as he finishes the note and sees the lipstick kiss on the bottom right corner. His grin only grows as he sets the note in the drawer and reflects on the night before. He picks up the cup of coffee; a spring to his step as he goes about getting ready for work. He's _definitely_ gonna talk to her about going out tonight.

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Brett walks in to work, spring still in his step and smile still on his face. He's still feeling like a million bucks. He enters the S.T.A.R.S. office and takes a seat at his desk. Even the stack of paperwork sitting in front of him can't discourage his good mood.

"Well, someone looks happy." Mary observes, sitting up straighter as her friend sits down in front of her. "Why wouldn't I be? The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the weather's great. I have a feeling today's gonna be a good day." He replies.

"Whoa, what drugs are you taking?" Mary questions, still smiling amusedly at his behavior. Barry chuckles at this point and joins in. "Can't you see? He got lucky last night. Good for you man." Mary's eyes widen. "No shit! Was she hot?"

Brett laughs, making sure not to look at Jill and give her away. "She was gorgeous." He answers, propping his booted feet on his desk; leaning back comfortably in his chair. Joseph whistles and claps. "Lucky son of a bitch! I got stuck dragging Chris home to crash on my couch." He informs. Mary laughs. "So _that's_ what happened to him, huh? Poor Redfield."

"I hope he gave you a hell of a thank you this morning then." Barry chimes in; implying an inappropriate thank you. Joseph laughs and throws a folder at him. "Shut up dude!" He shouts, shaking his head. "So do we know this girl?" Jill inquires, helping to throw everyone off. Not that they're ashamed, they just don't wanna get fired.

"Nah, not the way_ I_ know her." Brett states with bravado; causing the guys to whoop and roar in approval. Jill and Mary simply shake their heads and mutter "Men."

Wesker cuts in at this point; peering at everyone from his desk. "As enthralling as this conversation is; don't some of you have jobs to do?" He reminds in his flat tone. Grudgingly, everyone goes back to their work.

When no one's looking, Brett sneaks a secret smile at Jill; who returns it. _Definitely_ gonna ask her about tonight.

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_December 1996_

They're in his car, zooming through the sleepy city; radio playing softly as background noise. Mary smiles; the song reflecting her mood. _'I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine. I got a love and I know it's all mine. Do what ya want but you're never gonna break me.'_

After Mary was done admiring his car (gorgeous black Mercedes-Benz) She started feeling…nervous. The weight of what's happening finally sinking in. She doesn't like nervous; doesn't _do_ nervous. It's not as if she isn't happy; she is. She is excited. But…

She finds herself needing some kind reassurance. Glancing down she notices Wesker's right hand resting on the gear stick and, in an uncharacteristic move, she reaches over and places her hand over his; twinning their fingers and leaning back in her seat.

He doesn't shake her off or let go.

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Mary feels the nervousness gnaw at her a little more as they arrive at Wesker's townhome. Wesker calmly kills the engine, steps out and in a gentlemanly gesture; he steps around and opens her door.

She follows him up the walk and into the house. She's surprised by how calm and relaxed he is as he unlocks the door and holds it open for her. They're such small gestures, but coming from him; she knows how important they are.

She squeaks; the sound muffled against his lips as Wesker suddenly seizes her lips in a fierce, demanding kiss; backing her against the now closed door. She grabs his biceps and lets him pin her against the door.

Pretty soon, hands stray under clothes, afore mentioned clothes become a scattered trail across the living room and up the stairs. When Wesker takes the lead (almost as if he knows she's nervous) Mary forgets why she was so worried.

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She stirs; hearing a voice speaking softly. Sluggishly, she rubs her eyes and sits up; holding the black sheet to her chest. Her eyes focus and she finds it's Wesker on the phone. He's still speaking softly and he sounds a little annoyed. He's already dressed and he's pulling on his shoes at the end of the bed. "I understand it's important, William; but I can't have you calling me at all hours like this." He sighs.

"Alright, alright. I'm on my way; have everything ready." He finishes the conversation with a finalizing tone.

"What's s'matter?" She mumbles, rubbing her eyes as exhaustion threatens to pull her under again. Wesker's head turns to her as he's slipping his shades back on. He stands and walks to the side of the bed she's half-passed out on. "I'm sorry dear heart, but I have to go." He says, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips before turning to leave.

She yawns and lays on her side. "Are you coming back?" She asks, watching him stop at the bedroom door. "I'll be back shortly. Go back to sleep."

She does. And in the morning, over coffee with him; she's forgotten all about it.

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Brett smiles when he hears Jill's voice answer. "Hey. Where are you?" She asks; her tone light and cheerful.

He's taking her out tonight. For a simple dinner and a movie. But he can't find her house.

"I'm on my way. But, uh; what's your house number again?" He inquires sheepishly. He's still trying to find his way around the big city and all it's little side roads.

Jill laughs. "Sometimes I wonder how you don't get lost responding to calls." She jokes lightly. "316 Wright Avenue."

At that Brett about slams on the breaks as he just passes the house. _'How did I forget that?'_ He wonders as Jill laughs again over the phone. "Was that you I just heard?" She asks. He throws the car in reverse and stops in front of the house; she's in the window; waving.

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They sat at a red clothed table; that was positioned before a hot stove where the chef cooked their meal in front of them. Brett had never done Hibachi before, but he and Jill were enjoying the show their chef put on.

"So," Jill starts, picking up a piece of shrimp from her mei fun and popping it in her mouth. "Tell me about yourself. Any relatives; about your parents maybe?" She ventures, wanting to know more.

Brett takes a bite of chicken and shifts in his seat to face her. "Well, my father's still around. He's not the…cuddliest of people. Never knew my mother. And then there's my older brother; he's a Navy Seal. He's always been dad's favorite. Actually, I joined the Guard to try to please my dad."

Jill gives him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. That doesn't sound too pleasant." Brett smiles and waves his hand. "When is life ever pleasant? Except when I'm with you." He states, causing her to blush and chuckle.

"You're sweet." She says, her smile wide and a light pink tinge to her cheeks. "Not really, I kinda got it from a movie." He replies, chuckling. She laughs and shakes her head. "Gotta love an honest man." Brett switches gears. "What about you; any family?"

Jill's expression softens; her mirth slipping away a little. "Just my dad. He's…ah, he's in jail. Multiple counts of grand larceny." She explains, biting into an egg roll. Brett clears his throat; some rice getting stuck from his restrained gasp. He's not too happy with the awkward air around them; or that he's accidently made Jill uncomfortable. He never wants to do that again.

"Jeeze, I'm sorry." He apologizes, unsure what else to say. Her smile returns. "It's alright. How bout we jump to a happier topic?" Brett gives a short laugh. "Yeah, you think of a happier topic while I choke on my chicken."

Jill gives a squeal of a laugh. "Oh damn, I'll have to pay for my own meal." She jokes, the mood immediately lighter.

After that road bump, the evening was filled with laughter and jokes. And concluded with whipped cream and strawberries. Without the bowl.

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	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"_The feeling's very tough, can't shake it off. And the struggle keeps it on. Your abandonment is billowing under the cover of being strong." Shaimus – "Tie You Down"_

_April 1997_

She's frantic. Her mind is frantic, but her body is still semi frozen in shock. "Are you alright? What happened? Come in, sit down." She hears him speak, but doesn't understand the words as her partner leads her into his apartment with a hand at her elbow.

Brett's eyes narrow as he examines her; she's shaking, compulsively cracking her knuckles and clenching her jaw so hard he's surprised she hasn't cracked her teeth. Though her mask remains. Ever present. Lest anyone ever find out who dwells beneath it. Brett thinks he's one of the very few who knows the real Mary Shepherd.

He sits across from her and sets a hand on her knee. She flinches. He leans in to make sure she'll focus on him, but maintains enough distance to keep from being threatening. Something big has happened and he needs to know what's left her in such a state.

"What happened? It obviously upset you enough to make you call me so late and come over shaking like a branch in a hurricane." He meets her eyes. She inhales deeply and he_ hears_ the shaking. Something most certainly isn't right.

"Someone broke into my flat." She starts, a blanket statement that abruptly cuts off. Typical traumatic response. He nods. Gives her time to speak. "He tried to blitz me, I averted. I don't remember how. We fought. He disarmed me. I couldn't move, maybe it was my fault. I had a few drinks with Jill before I went home." She stops again and Brett's eyes narrow even further. He doesn't like this at all. Any person who could disarm and restrain his partner had to be military or spec ops. She's a S.T.A.R.S. member; that ain't a walk in the park.

She sniffles and when she speaks again, her voice is shaking and cracking. "So I'm trying to dislodge him…and out of fucking nowhere, there's a gunshot. Silenced. He lets go and just drops. Like, crumples."

"And what did you do?" Brett prods gently, trying to get information from her without upsetting her further. She shakes her head and now she's trembling, wrapping her arms around herself as if she's cold. "I-I looked down, at, at his body. His face was gone." Her breathing's labored and she pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs them to her. Brett moves to the spot beside her and wraps an arm around her shoulders. He knows that's not all.

"The room was a mess. He was looking for something. I don't know. And I looked to the doorway and…and I know I'm wrong, I have to be. I saw…I _thought_ I saw…" She struggles to form the words and Brett feels a surge of anger toward the unlucky bastard who did this to his partner. If he wasn't dead already, Brett would make him _wish_ he was.

"What did you see?" He asks; he has to know. He absolutely has to. If it's fucked her up this bad; there's no doubt he's gonna do something about it. She looks up again and meets his eyes dead on. "I saw Wesker."

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She's sleeping on his couch. He's been on the phone; first with the precinct; with Enrico Marini from Bravo Team (who takes the night shifts). Neighbors called and there's a team and CSU at Mary's loft already, picking through the mess and the dead guy. Then Jill, to inform her of what happened and what was being done now. Then Rebecca, whose coming over with a bag of Mary's clothes and a few necessary things. Wesker's on his way over too; he's informed Brett that Mary can stay with him until her home's been cleared. Brett doesn't protest.

He doesn't know how to feel. He doesn't know what to _think._ Could Wesker have been the person who killed the intruder? Why was someone snooping around in Mary's apartment to begin with? Why did they attack her? Well, that was easily answered, she put dangerous men (and some women) in prison. She was bound to have made some enemies.

But _why in creation_ did she think she saw Wesker, of all people, murdering the man who threatened her? Chris would be more likely to do something like that. Not with a silenced gun, mind you, probably a baseball bat. While drunk. The idea is still the same.

Proper, stoic, 'by-the-book' Wesker wouldn't risk his career or his life with some half-baked, heat of the moment murder.

Brett paces in front of Mary while she sleeps and he waits for the other two. 'Becca shows up first, dropping off Mary's things and inquiring after her and what Brett thought happened.

Then Wesker arrives. At 4:30 am. Brett carries the bag while Wesker carries their sleeping co-worker. Brett watches him leave. And he doesn't sleep all morning.

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By late morning, she's composed herself and the mask is back. Wesker notices. "How are you feeling?" She smiles. He knows it's fake. She knows he knows. "I'm alright. Not looking forward to clean up when CSU gets the hell outta my loft; but I'm good." She replies easily, sitting across from him and reaching for the kettle. "No you're not." He states flatly.

Her eyes lock on his. "Don't. Don't do this to me." Almost a plea. Wesker isn't swayed. "You can't ignore this. You've experienced something traumatic and there's no shame in speaking to a – " He doesn't get to say the last word. She won't allow it. "No. Some asshole broke into my loft and got the best of me because I'd been drinking. That's it. I'm a cop, I'm not easily rattled." She defends herself and pours hot water into her teacup. Her trembling hands don't go unnoticed.

"Mr. Marshal told me the state you were in last night. Just because you're 'fine' now doesn't mean you'll stay that way." Wesker reasons. She knows he's right. But if she admits it, to herself or out loud; it becomes real. Her fear, her doubt, her concern.

She breaks. "Were you there?" She asks, setting the kettle down a little too hard.

Wesker doesn't even blink; blue eyes carefully focused on her. "No. Rebecca retrieved your belongings and I picked you up from Marshal's apartment." He says smoothly. Everything's smooth with him. She frowns. "That's not what I meant. After," She hesitates. He patiently waits for her. "After that man was shot, I looked at him and then at the door. Yes, it was dark and yes, I'd been drinking; but I could've sworn I saw you." She whispers. She can hear the gossip now; how she's losing her mind and gone off the deep end.

She hears her own feelings of doubt vocalize; feeding her dark whispers of treason and lies and conspiracy. She knows what she saw.

Wesker's brow furrows. "Your mind saw what would put you at ease. Something comfortable. It's not uncommon for one to…visualize something, or someone, familiar or 'safe' during moments of extreme distress." He replies. He's got an answer for everything. But he didn't answer 'no'.

She wants so badly to believe him. She sighs deeply and stirs her tea. "Yeah. Must be it. Kinda stupid, huh?" She asks, looking down into her cup and wrapping her hands around it. Wesker smiles. Her attempt at humor is her trying to ignore her doubts. "Not at all, dear heart. I'm flattered your subconscious sees me as your personal superhero." He jests, sipping his tea and leaning back in his chair.

She grins and laughs. "Yeah, even_ I_ think I need you to protect me. My whole career is a big 'fuck you' to my feelings of inadequacy." She's trying to move on from last night; continue on like nothing's wrong. Like she always does. She doesn't have any problems and she'll never be weak. That's what she's always told herself anyway.

And her lover knows it's all a careful, elaborate façade. He sees the damaged young woman underneath the sarcastic mask. He admires her determination, though he'll never say it. Her tough girl shell is why he hired her; not her expensive education.

Her barely visible weakness is what attracted him to her. He could peel back the layers to see the damage. And she's let him. He knows her secrets, knows she'd do whatever he asked; but she'd do it her way. Just like how she worked. He liked this compromised power. It was fun.

It worked for Mary Shepherd in a way it couldn't work for Chris Redfield.

Wesker chuckles and rises from his chair; departing for the living room. He gives her his best 'come hither' look and, just as he knew it would, her mask gives way. Sincerity is painful for her. Too hard to bare all and show her scars; but he makes her do it. She's so pretty in her pain.

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She inhales deeply, holding in a breath before exhaling smoke through her nose. The smoke curls around in the air before her, slowly fading away into a light haze. "Don't tell Wesker." She says, smirking and pulling again on the tightly wrapped joint. "You sure he doesn't already know?" Chris asks, plucking the joint from her fingers and taking a hit. She meets his eyes; remarkably composed and clear. "Nope. But I don't give a fuck; I need this now."

Chris smiles and offers the joint to Brett, who politely declines; choosing to sip his beer instead. And he's not even big on alcohol. "Your secret's safe with us." Chris replies, giving her a look that Brett can't quite place. Almost a little too friendly. But he brushes it off. His partner can deal with that.

Her smirk grows. Her eyes briefly look over the marksman. Brett swears he sees Chris straighten some and square his shoulders. Mary smiles in approval and takes another hit.

"Thanks for hanging out guys. Seriously, I appreciate it; I can't do alone right now." She says, turning her head as she speaks; peering around Chris's living room. Conveniently avoiding their eyes when things get too real. "I wouldn't _let_ you do alone now anyway; it's no problem." Brett answers with his reassuring smile. "So, no fast company tonight Chris?" Mary asks, changing the subject and causing Brett to chuckle. Chris rolls his eyes. "No, I've been quiet lately."

"Oh? Why the sudden change?" Brett inquires. "Finally break it?" He jabs, lightly punching Chris's shoulder. "Ha-ha. Nope, nothing that horrible. Too tired most nights now; job's getting tougher." He explains, regaining custody of the quickly dwindling joint. Mary scoffs. "You can say that again. I'm running myself ragged nowadays." Brett nods in agreement. "Yeah, I don't see more than three hours of sleep most nights."

Brett's watching her now; wondering if, in this setting, she's still one of the boys to Chris.

"_Take me home tonight, I don't wanna let you go till you see the light. Take me home tonight-"_ Mary reaches in her pocket and answers her phone. "Hey. What's up?" Both men look at each other and then back to her, questioning who she's talking to with their eyes. She just smiles. "Sounds awesome. Hmm? Oh, I'm with Chris and Brett." She rolls her eyes and Brett knows who it is.

"Hey, I offered, you'd rather be with your paperwork." She retorts, leaning back in the chair and propping her feet on the messy table. "I'm sure. Did you leave the key? Thanks; I'll see you when you get off. Yeah, g'night." And she hangs up.

"Ball and chain?" Brett asks, resting his left ankle on his right knee. She chuckles. "Yeah. He says we'd all better be in on time tomorrow or else." Chris groans. "I don't get you, Mary. Him, of all people? He's like, twice your age." He asks/states, incredulously. Brett laughs. Both men are on the same page. "Dude, don't ask why. She'll traumatize you. I know." Brett warns, remembering their office conversation. Chris scoffs and shakes his head. "Impossible. Come on, I gotta know; _why_?"

Mary grins, her dangerous Cheshire cat grin. "Do you really want me to tell you what he does with his tongue?" She asks, snuffing out the little nub of the joint on her boot. Brett shudders and takes a long sip of his beer. Chris's jaw drops and his eyes widen. "For fucks' sake, Mary." Brett groans, then looks to Chris. "I _told_ you, man."

Chris just sits staring, dumbstruck, at his co-worker. "Shit. I was convinced he was gay and just playing it off with you." Chris responds, shaking his head in disbelief. Brett laughs out loud and Mary chokes on her laugh…and her rum and coke. "Smooth, Chris. Nope; I promise, he's straight."

"Let's be honest, even if he _were_ gay; none of us would say shit to him about it. That man is scary." Brett says, knowing everyone agrees. "Probably not. He looks like he's made of fucking granite; the guy's solid." Chris agrees, chugging his beer.

"Aw; are the little boys afraid of mean ol' Wesker?" Mary teases with a shrill laugh at the end. "Girl; the only reason you're not afraid of him is cuz you're hittin' that." Brett states, shaking his head. "Nah, I think she gets off on how scary he is." Chris jokes, nudging her legs on the table with the tip of his boot. "Oh yeah; lemmie tell ya bout all the kinky sex we have." She drawls sarcastically. She's candid with her friends; but she'd never tell them Chris was, somewhat, right.

Brett groans and shakes his head. "Please don't." They all laugh. For now, everything's okay.


End file.
